Anesthesia
by An Engineer
Summary: My chest burns when I think about him, like the alcohol has seeped into my heart and is slowly and agonizingly sterilizing it. I wouldn't want to stop it from happening; I hate the bloody disarray that is my love life. I want neat, clean, surgical-precise order, and the faint, comforting smell of antiseptics... I reach for another glass of liquor. Sweet anesthesia... SasuSaku. AU.


**Anesthesia**

_- oneshot -_

_Songsperation: "Stranger" by Katie Costello_

* * *

I'm frowning in frustration at my hair; I never _could_ get it to do what I wanted it to. Give me a scalpel or an IV to wield: no problem. But a blow-drier? It's like I barely know the right end of the thing. I glance at the clock resting on the bureau and fight the urge to growl. I should have let Ino come over to help; she would have bitched about Shikamaru the entire time, but it would have been worth it. The bright red numbers of the clock display glare back mercilessly and I swear they make themselves change faster. Soon the impatient honks of a car outside join forces with it; I have no choice but to grab my coat and run out the door as I am.

_Ugh_. It is just one of those nights.

The driver compliments me on my looks as he meets me at the door to my building with an oversized umbrella. I give the little pink braids woven into the sides of my head a satisfied pat. But the messy (I'd like to think artfully so) bun they end in is really still a cop out. I stare down at the lace-topped, A-line dress of the green that is just two or three shades before black, touch the matching plum lipstick on my lips and think that the ensemble really does look fine. I've allowed Ino to pick out the clothes as if I'm some giant dress-up doll; she can live with the wrong hair. For God's sake, we are grown women.

Still, I'm hoping she isn't packing stilettos that look even half as dangerous as the silver ones - dropped off earlier with the green dress and strict directions to _blow out_ my hair - now resting on the plastic floor mats in the cab.

_Ugh_.

The drive isn't long at all. Honestly, I wish I'd fought harder with them to let me just take the Metro. But Naruto and Kakashi are living on the west side now and have developed a new annoying paranoia regarding downtown; the cab came prepaid to not give me the opportunity to refuse. I don't care if crime rates are higher here; I like being near the hospital, and traffic should really be avoided whenever possible. For the sake of one's mental health.

I tip the driver with an embarrassed smile as he lets me off at the towering hotel just three blocks from my building and almost next door to the hospital. It's old and grand, with marble sides and perfectly edged topiary lining the front drive. The inside is all twinkling crystal and glass, rich wood and oil paintings. There are bronze plaques on the walls commemorating sophisticated, historical things. Despite Ino's outrageous heels, I'm starting to feel like I'm two feet tall.

The gathering is in the newest lounge in the building - still as splendid as the lobby, but more modern and understated. The color palette is dark, the lighting dim. The room wraps around a well-equipped bar, and the many glasses that have already been distributed glimmer in the dusk like eyes. I check my umbrella and coat at the door, already feeling awkward in this kind of urbane company.

It's a big, fancy gala being held here tonight; Tsunade-shishou is receiving some kind of award for another stride in medicine. The invite list is expansive enough to include a newbie like me, plus any acquaintances her two closest friends are including. I think they're a regular triumvirate: Jiraya's received Pulitzers and Poet Laureates for his literary accomplishments, and Orochimaru has earned about every award a person can in the biological engineering community. It's a little scary.

Speaking of scary, I spot him now - the third of the Group - pallid beneath his jet-black hair and foreboding in his somber suit. He stops as he catches me looking, and we talk politely, strainedly, for a moment. His interest is mild - his attention lies beyond medicine - and I am trying too hard to choose my words, lest I offend him. His attendance tonight is already such a stretch.

Tonight is a reunion of sorts for them, I muse as I watch the always-boisterous Jiraya latch onto the dour man in a bear hug that probably smells strongly of alcohol. Across the room, Tsunade's lips are tight as he drags Orochimaru over for some reminiscing. I think the problem must be that they're all too brilliant to be around each other. Like powerful magnets, repelling…

As I watch my beloved teacher get in on the awkward group hug, I can't help but be jealous. My own triumvirate has yet to reconvene. It might never.

It's so coincidental it's almost stupid, the way the three of us of the younger generation paired off with the Group. Naruto, my absolute best friend in the world, is the surprising protégé of Jiraya. He can convince you of anything with his writing; it's a gift. I am Tsunade's charge and due to enter medical school any week now. I can't bring myself to think of our third mate…

"Sakura!"

Of course, Ino is here; she's in training to become quite a good pharmacist, so she's on the guest list. I grimace as she approaches me and her face morphs into a heavily made-up mask of horror. I anticipate a scene with dread.

"Ino…"

"Oh my God!" she wails without any prelude.

"Ino, okay, listen- "

"Your hair!" Her voice inches higher in volume and pitch until I wince in pain. I'm vaguely aware of Shikamaru Nara appearing at his girlfriend's shoulder, probably preparing himself to clamp a hand over her mouth if need be. I always did like him…

"Yes, I know, you told me. Just calm down- "

"Yes! Yes _I_ told you to wear your hair down! And it, it… it actually looks _better_ the way you have it! God! How could _you_ have seen that and not me? _You_ don't know a sheath from a smock! _You_ still wear light wash jeans! Ugh! This is mortifying..."

I feel one eye beginning to twitch in annoyance at the abuse. How is this crazy person my favorite girlfriend? "Yes, silly me wastes all of her time on internships and finishing graduate school. If _only_ I were as _knowledgeable_ as you, Ino."

She blinks her heavily made-up eyes at me in surprise for a moment then makes a cat noise, flexing her white lacquered nails like claws. "Wow, not like you to be such a bitch. Bad day?"

I shrug beneath the green silk dress. "Bad mood."

"Open bar, girlie." With a grin and a kiss to the cheek, and a polite nod from Shikamaru, her platinum head is disappearing into the murmuring crowd once again. I shake my head at her, even though I feel like following her advice.

And here is my best friend, waiting behind Ino, equally blond, blue-eyed, and dressed to the nines. They might be twins, if not for the carefree tan/sunburn he's sporting, or the fact that he's already managed to rumple his hair, shed his expensive tux jacket, and lose a button somewhere down the road tonight. I greet him with a wide grin, despite my mood.

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto seems to also share Ino's deficiency of tact, because he nearly shouts the words, causing people to shoot annoyed glances our way. Somehow I don't mind so much when _he_ does this. He scoops me up and plants a sloppy kiss on my forehead, nearly causing me to lose the careful balance I've managed to find over my heels. I start laughing and then I smell the alcohol on his breath.

It's kind of ridiculous that Naruto's normal behavior is so similar to drunk behavior; I honestly couldn't even tell until I smelled it on him. Poor Hinata. I see her across the room in a glittery silver gown, lingering shyly behind her cousin and his girlfriend, Tenten.

I duck out of his arms; he tries to catch me again but whatever he's been drinking has started to slow his responses. His whiskery face melts into a pout and his baby-blue eyes shine compellingly.

"Don't you want to dance with me, Sakura-chan?" he's speaking less loudly now, but his words are beginning to sound slurred.

I know there's no use scolding him for the alcohol. "Maybe later, Naruto. How about we go meet up with some people first? I saw Hinata over by the buffet table!" I try to start dragging him in the right direction, but he won't budge. "Naruto?" His face has gone sulky.

"I've already seen Hinata, Sakura. Then I had some drinks with the gray-haired, old pervert. Now let's dance!"

"Which gray-haired pervert? We know more than one," I smile for him, trying to distract him.

It works. He cracks up. "Good one; it was Jiraya."

I laugh with him a little bit before I have to bring him back down, "That figures," I grin, "Now, why is Hinata making you want to get drunk?"

The way his face falls makes me hate myself for asking, but it'll be better to help him fix the problem instead of letting him mask it temporarily. He needs the medicine, bitter it may be - not anesthesia to just mask the symptoms for a few sweet hours.

He scuffs his toe against the lush carpet and doesn't look at me. "It's just hard, Sakura-chan. She's a Hyuga. I was talking to her in front of her family and they all just looked at me like I was the janitor getting too friendly. I may have Neji's support, yeah, but what good is that compared to the rest of them? Do you know how hard it is to be in love with someone who belongs to a powerful clan like that?"

The blood in my chest and arms and legs suddenly runs cold, and I can see that Naruto has realized what he's said the way his face goes white. My pulse pounding in my ears makes everything sound muffled and slow.

"S-sakura-chan, I'm sor-"

"No. Just, no, Naruto," I sigh. Half an hour into this gala and I already feel so tired, "Listen up, alright? Yes, I do know how absolutely, _fucking_ hard it is. I do. But _you and Hinata_, you both love each other. You're both _here_. What else could really be strong enough to get in your way?"

There must be some sort of cracked, half-crazy/desperate look in my eyes, because he agrees immediately and it seems like he's just doing it to appease me. Don't set off the catatonic old widow, just humor her. I give him a half-hearted push back in Hinata's direction, and with a tentative and pitying final kiss to my forehead he leaves.

"That was very nice of you."

"Thanks," I smile as Kakashi, looking surprisingly debonair in his suit, comes up behind me, tall, delicate glasses of amber liquid balanced in each hand. He hands me the one from his left and I nearly choke on what's inside it.

"I couldn't help but overhear," he grins as he watches my eyes water from the strength of whatever it is, "Thought maybe you needed something strong. And by the way," he grimaces, "I caught that 'gray-haired pervert' bit. Not amused."

"Hm, I probably shouldn't be accepting drinks from you then," I tease, "Wouldn't put it past you to slip in a little Rohypnol and take advantage."

He rolls his dark eyes at me, "Hardly my style. All the fun is in _winning over_ the lady; cheating is boring." He dumps his own flute of liquid on the tray of a passing waitress and envelops me in a gentle hug, "You do look beautiful tonight though, Sakura. If I thought I had a chance..."

I smile to myself and squeeze him back. Kakashi is a Congressman, and back in the day he used to teach law. He had all three of my own group when we were undergraduates still trying to figure out what to even major in. He's at least fifteen years older than me, his wife is beautiful, and I used to babysit his daughter when she was little. He's somewhere on the spectrum between surrogate father and protective older brother.

"Thank you, Kakashi." I can tell he wants to rumple my hair, his favored gesture of affection, but settles for patting the side of my head so he doesn't ruin the complicated woven hair.

He drapes an arm against my back and leads me to a pair of seats along the bar. He'd been sitting with Jiraya discussing ideas for the ` Bestselling Author's latest book installment (of which Kakashi practically fangirls over) and the older man makes way for me.

"Sakura Haruno! Or is it Dr. now? You look lovelier every time I see you!"

Conversation has always been more easygoing with this friend of my teacher's; the contrast between being with Jiraya and politely nodding with Orochimaru is acute and a little comedic. Jiraya is pushing sixty by now, a distinguished award-holder in the literary community, and attending the congratulatory gala of his closest friend with over a hundred other leaders of the community... and he tries to rope me into a drinking game like we're at a frat boy party. I stick to light drinks while I'm in company though. There's no shortage of laughing and joking and fun conversation. My old teacher is smiling gently when he thinks I'm not watching, and I think he did well to pull me into lighter company before I went drinking down my sorrows like Naruto.

He's still missing, either chasing after Hinata or slowly destroying his liver, the true protégé of the slurring, outrageous old writer beside me. Ino and Shikamaru, Neji and Tenten have all been by to say hello and have a few drinks. Neji and Tenten linger a little longer; the reason Neji made the guest list is because he belongs to the Hyuga family, practically royalty around here, and he's uncomfortable being around so many snobby strangers. Tenten is even more out of place – she owns a gym that teaches women self-defense and has only very recently risen to higher prominence for creating a charity and speaking out against domestic abuse. But she has personality and a tomboyish charm; she absolutely shines on Neji's arm. And when her warm brown eyes peer up at him beneath her lashes and he flushes, you can all but see the name 'Hyuga' tacked on after 'Tenten'.

My dear teacher has been running around all night; when she finally comes to see to me her cheeks are flushed bright red but she hasn't had a chance to touch even a drop of alcohol. Her pale blonde hair is coming out of its waves, and she has time only to press a quick kiss to my temple and promise me we'll have a chance for girl talk on Monday.

"I love you, too," I murmur back, and wave Tsunade off to the hospital board members with a smile.

The night is waxing late; Kakashi discreetly removes himself from the commotion to call his wife and tell her he's leaving early to tell the children goodnight.

"Goodnight, Sakura. Take care of yourself," my old teacher stoops to kiss my forehead. He makes sure he makes eye contact meaningfully, "We'll go for some coffee on Saturday and have a chance to talk about things properly. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, stop worrying about the wrong people. Naruto's the one who's probably drunk off his ass right now," I wave him off with faux annoyance, "Now go home, family man. Give Rin a kiss for me, and tell Saori I'll take her shopping sometime soon, please?"

"Will do. See you soon, kiddo."

Once Kakashi has left, the crowd begins to trickle out slowly, then faster as we near the earliest morning hours. Jiraya stumbles off after a couple of bear hugs; quite a feat he's moving at all considering everything he drank. I'm alone again; the only people in sight whom I am acquainted with are Neji and Tenten. I watch them slow dance in a quiet corner of the floor, her face buried in his chest and his mouth at her ear. I decide it's alright for me to find something stronger to drink now that the people are all gone; maybe then I won't feel the cold bite of melancholy where it's burrowed somewhere deep inside my chest.

I stand with my stomach resting against the bar, playing aimlessly with the high, skinny heels of my shoes against the carpet, twirling the toes around and around like I'm stamping out a cigarette. The man behind the counter hands me my filled glass and I swirl the honey liquid, twirl it around and around. It doesn't taste as sweet, but the beautiful numbness is warm and sugary and welcome in its own way._ It's my medicine_, I pretend, just like we do with children at the hospital. This thick, pretty-colored stuff is a magical potion made of unicorn blood and drops of rainbow. It will taste like your favorite food and make everything all better. All you have to do is drink it...

As I watch, Neji and Tenten retreat from the floor and head for the exit, his arms still wrapped around her. A girl like Tenten is more than capable of standing alone, of taking care of herself, but it's sweet to see the way he's determined that she not have to resort to that, because she has _him_. She's bundled up all warm and safe. With him. Suddenly the liquor on my tongue does taste sweet, too sweet. It cloys in my mouth, sticky and suffocating. I wave the bartender over again; the solution is to wash the taste out with another drink. The bitterness, the sting to the back of my throat is welcome now.

The couple is replaced by none other than Tsunade and Jiraya. He leads her onto the floor and she doesn't put up too much of a fight because most of the people she is trying to impress are gone by now. He scoops up her long hair for her while she struggles to pin up the drooping locks. She kicks off her high heels, gives him a slow, sweet smile, and then they are dancing. He sways her back and forth and she holds on with her hands clasped around his neck. He's so serious and coordinated and gentle with her it's like he hasn't touched a drop of anything all night. The look in my teacher's amber eyes makes me need to take another swing of my drink.

She and Jiraya sway the night away. Surprisingly, Orochimaru is still hanging around too, nursing his own drink at a table for one with sputtering tea lights. His perpetual seriousness melts a little at the sight of his oldest friends absorbed in each other. I can't be sure in the flickering light, but it looks like he lifts his glass slightly to them as if he is toasting.

I think about my earlier theory while the bartender accepts my tip and another order. If I obey the translation of my group to their group, then Tsunade and Jiraya will be me and Naruto. History has certainly repeated itself before. Flashes of the evening hit me like I'm in a movie - Naruto's sulking face, his hand in mine, our communion of woes, thinking of _him..._

Maybe I'm meant to be with Naruto, meant to play out the pattern the Fate's are so obviously weaving into their tapestry. He's a wonderful person, and he's always been there for me. That's already more than can be said for _him_.

When I say that tonight is a reunion of sorts for Tsunade, Jiraya, and Orochimaru, I'm not saying they just haven't seen each other in a good, long while. It wasn't a break, it was a severance, big and nasty, with ugly, scabby words and long, long silences. Jiraya has always been rather carefree and easygoing; the brunt of the fight originated between Tsunade and Orochimaru, Jiraya just took her side once he found out the details. Their fields - medicine and biological engineering - are to an extent linked. Once upon a time, Orochimaru went too far in the quest for his latest scientific breakthrough; he trod on the laws of ethics and scarcely looked up. Tsunade has always had a bleeding heart; it's how she's become so good at what she does. It became an irreconcilable difference between the two of them. She threatened to expose him. He left the country.

The severance happened the year my own group branched off in college, picked our own separate majors. I committed to medical school under Tsunade's wing; we'd known each other since I'd started volunteering at her hospital a few years previous. Naruto was the most popular writer on the university newspaper and the leading papers in the country were starting to take notice. _He_ won a scholarship to the School of Engineering, the same as his brother before him. Orochimaru wrote him his letter of recommendation.

We were supposed to be separate but _together_, treading different paths but parallel ones. He was Naruto's best friend. I was in love with him. And then he left, left to experiment on human beings like they were Petri dishes with his mentor, left us screaming for him in the background.

He had issues. His family was like the Hyuga's on steroids, but their power rapidly died out from the time he was a little boy. He was young, but not so young that he hadn't already been taught to think of his clan as something noble, superior, almost godlike. He was in denial up until the day he left us, his demeanor so arrogant that you'd never know he was defending a long-since emaciated power. I made excuses for him for a long time. He must have been desperate; he would have crossed any line to restore the honor of his family's name.

I wonder if he's even succeeded, if there are headlines in other countries in languages I cannot read, shouting from the rooftops the triumphs of the noble, young engineering prodigy.

I drain my glass - is it the fourth or the fifth? All I know for sure is that he didn't come back with Orochimaru. His teacher may have seen the error of his ways, decided that he wanted to reconcile the differences, but clearly he does not feel the same way.

My chest burns when I think about him, like the alcohol has seeped into my heart and is slowly and agonizingly sterilizing it. I wouldn't want to stop it from happening; I hate the bloody disarray that is my love life. I want neat, clean, surgical-precise order, and the faint, comforting smell of antiseptics. The reassurance that whatever germ causes love sickness has been blighted, burned away by bleach. I pick up another glass. Sweet anesthesia. I sway a little on my feet.

Thick arms wrap around my waist from behind, and hot breath thick with alcohol hits the back of my neck.

"Hey."

"Naruto, I told you to get off and go be with Hinata, you moron," I gripe, trying to twist out of the snare of his arms. I'm tipsy and a little silly with drinks though; I can't make his arms budge even an inch. I can feel his smirk as he presses his face further into my neck.

"Not Naruto, Sakura."

Suddenly my head is hot and my pulse thuds inside of my skull like a heavy bass line. I find the strength to rip away, or maybe he just lets me get a look at him, because he keeps hold of my waist as I turn.

He looks too casual without a blazer, but he always did like to push the boundaries of polite society and respect. The sleeves of his steel-gray shirt are pushed up his forearms, his hair is disheveled which is usual, but I've never seen his face look so flushed.

"S-Sasuke?"

"What are you drinking so much for, Sakura?" I see him eye the glasses on the counter that bear smudges of plum lipstick on their shiny rims. I hate the way he says my name, enunciates the syllables, rolls over them like he's being seductive. I feel like he lost the right to call me by name. I try to pull away from him, but my brain suddenly takes on the consistency of liquor, sloshing around in my head so that up is left and down is right and I stumble.

"What's it to you? I can smell your own breath, by the way," I mutter angrily. I need to get away from him before the tears come.

He smirks in that devilish way of his - in four years it hasn't changed. "I'm not the one who still has to get home tonight. I'm assuming you're still against driving though? No car?"

"Piss off."

"I thought so. The Metro then. Not very safe this time of night, and especially dressed like that." His arms are still tight around my waist, though I'm still squirming; he tilts away slightly to apraise my total figure. The corners of his lips tilt up just slightly. I can't decipher the look in his eyes.

"Walk me home then. Be the gentleman you never were. Start trying to make up for the last four years," I throw back in his pretty face. I expect some kind of reaction, but his dark eyes only glitter in the low light; much of his face is too shadowed to read.

"Come upstairs to my room. We can at least yell at each other in privacy," Sasuke finally says.

"Yeah right, you ass-"

"Sakura," he cuts me off with a squeeze of my shoulders; he's finally let go of my waist. "I'm serious. We'll talk."

"Well, I stopped wanting to listen a long time ago." I manage to push away from him, only to pitch forward on my stupidly high heels. He catches me.

"W-what did you do to me?" I can tell my voice is starting to slur as I struggle to stop swaying. He rolls his eyes at me.

"Nothing. Do you realize how much you just drank? Now I'm definitely taking you with me. To watch for signs of alcohol poisoning..." I open my mouth again to start screaming at him, maybe cause a scene and get hotel security on him. It would serve him right. But when he starts to pull me along after him my head takes another swim, and it's all I can do to not fall against him. Hmph. I'm not usually this much of a lightweight.

I finally find the common sense to ditch the tottery shoes while we're in the elevator. He smirks. I resist the urge to use the stiletto heels on his face.

Sasuke holds the door to his room open for me, and I fall onto first couch I see without bothering to search for a light switch. He finds the lamp on the bedside table, uses the light to make his way into the hotel kitchenette where he's got food stashed in the mini-fridge. He's got coffee brewing automatically. He watches me eat cold breadsticks. I avoid his eyes and try to look sufficiently angry with him. The food works wonders; I feel my head clear up tremendously, though I'm starting to feel the beginnings of a headache.

As my thoughts become more lucid, I pay proper attention to him for the first time. The light in his room is brighter than the dusk of the party downstairs. Now that I look, I see a slight shadow of stubble across his face. His eyes have red in them; they look very tired. He's forgotten to do up the last couple of buttons on his shirt. When I focus behind him, I see that there are plenty of glasses on his countertop to rival the mess I left at the bar. I start to wonder self-consciously if I look as much of a wreck as he does. Sasuke's eyes watch my fingers brush away at any smudged bits of lipstick, and it strikes me that his exhaustion looks more long-term, as if he is not merely drunk in the short term but has been passing many sleepless nights. He's not the only one looking for some anesthesia. It annoys me that after all he's done, this realization makes my stomach twist up in concern for him.

My fingers linger at my mouth; his eyes narrow - they are still glued to me. A spark jumps into those haunted, dark eyes.

"Christ," he murmurs huskily, and almost before I know it, he's taken my hand in his, wrenched it away from my face, and pressed his lips against mine. The force of him pushes me back into the soft fabric of the couch; his body shifts over mine. He's heavy strong dizzying making me drunk again.

But I'm smart enough to know when I've really had enough. I make fists against his hard chest, try futily to throw him off. He only deepens the kiss, presses himself closer. I don't respond to his touch, try to shut down, to make him realize he has to stop. It works.

He raises himself up on his forearms, but his body is still pointedly pinning me down. I finally stop writhing beneath him. I muster my coldest glare when he brings up his fingers to brush the stray hairs from my face. My tightly held, perfect little braids are starting to fall apart.

"Damn it, Sasuke! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He can't do this; it's not fair. I chose to love him, he chose to ignore me - and he left for four years. But I finally decide to commit to hating him, he makes a move - drunken and unthinking as it is - and he gets to pin me down and make me change my mind? No. _No_.

He's still not moving. I watch his eyes droop, and he leans in. His dark hair tickles the sides of my face. I'm supposed to hate you. _Stop it._

"Stop it! You and I aren't an option anymore!" I shriek, loudly and shrilly enough to halt his advance, "You made your choice and now you live with the consequences! Now get away from me, you monster. God, you make me sick."

Sasuke's face suddenly flushes red, then white with anger, "You don't even know what you're talking about."

"Like hell! You seriously think I don't know about Tsunade, Orochimaru? I'm just as smart as you, Sasuke, so put your ego-"

His expression goes from angry to furious. His grip on me tightens almost uncomfortably, "Do you honestly think that has to do with us? We are not them, Sakura!"

"Obviously _you_ are! You're a liar just like him! I know about the human testing, Sasuke! I know everything! I know-mmph!"

He drowns me out with his lips over my mouth, kissing me more hungrily than even the last time. He kisses me so thoroughly, so heatedly, that I can't help but be taken off-guard and start responding to it. He takes my breath away, leaves me heaving and panting for air when he pulls away slightly.

"Do you know -huff- where I work now? For -huff- BioDymanics. Working on cures. Equipment. Some blind people can see now. Board certified. There is no fucking testing." His fingers twist in the loose bits of my hair, brush softly against my cheek. "That falling out was between Orochimaru and Tsunade. I left because the job was practically across the country. A clean break." I suddenly feel my head spinning again, but I think it has more to do with the intense way his eyes are gazing into mine.

"BioDynamics has come here, thanks in part to how famous your hospital is getting. I'm overseeing the department. I'm buying an apartment, Sakura."

He can't be serious.

I shake my head at him, "You're lying. You're lying you're lying you're lying." This time my voice is tiny; even I can hear the weakness in it. He's managed to worm his way in just enough to crack my defenses. My idiot heart is already telling my brain to go ahead and lower them entirely...

"Sakura, sakura, sakura..." he takes hold of my face with both hands, lets his lips brush softly against my cheek, tracing a path to my mouth. I fight to stifle my moan as he finds it and slowly begins to stoke the fire beneath my skin. The heat of him is burning away the numb haze of the alcohol; I feel everything like my senses have been reborn and revamped.

And I don't know if this is the last of the liquor talking, but I think I believe him.

So I give in to him.

He sets my skin on fire. My orderly, much-fretted over, perfectly twisted hair is soon splayed out in a chaotic halo around my head, and it feels like he untwists _me_, disorders _me_ until I can't recognize myself. I'm shattered messy bloody beating warm feeling finally _free_. He's not my anesthesia; he's my cure.

* * *

**Why did I write this. My endings are all the same. Ugh. I wanted to be that author, with the Glamorous!Verse, where they're all adult, successful, and dramatic. It was superfun to write, even if it was ridiculous. Plus I'm kind of obsessed with the present tense now. **

**_Ugh_.**

**Well, happy summer! Love you guys! Please r&r :)**

**(Side note: I'm overusing the non-word 'ugh'. I think it's an addiction. Ugh...)  
**


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